Where The Wild Roses Grow
by babyvfan
Summary: From the moment, he saw her he knew she was the one. The fairest rose among them all. Beautiful and free. The moment she saw him, she knew she was a goner-even before the first rose was laid
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: This story was inspired by the hauntingly beautiful song, Where the Wild Roses Grow. Highly recommend you listen to it. I wanted to do Zutara for a long time, who was and still is my true OTP from Avatar. This year I wanted to do a Halloween story, and thought, since this is my first time writing about them why not combine the two. This fanfic is especially special to me because it's both a dedication and birthday gift to two great friends of mine: kaze senju the wolfwarrior girl and mnmskittle. Hope you two like it. Hope you readers like it. **

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><p>There were many legends that surrounded her small village in Paris, France, being a famous ground-site in many historical tales and tell-tales consisting of anguish, war, blood, and love. Legends such as the <em>errer enfant,<em> a little girl who beckon a kind stranger with her sweet smile, lure them into the catacombs where she claimed her dog ran away, and use her pearly white teeth from that adorable smile to rip that kind stranger into pieces. A princess giving her virtue to the foreign enemy in order to save her lover only to bring total destruction to her people. A weeping willow mother whom people claimed to this day roamed the streets of Paris looking for her lost child, stream of tears forever flowing down her face.

All were told and speculated innumerable times over the years, but there was one that was the most popular of them all.

One that was a personal favorite of hers.

The legend of the Rose Keeper.

There was more versions and different interactions on that legends alone than all others combined, with so many passing the story on, spinning their own web on the tale.

Some say he was the doomed lover of the princess who lost her dignity along with her neck. Others say he was a mysterious phantom that made it his life goal to destroy anyone who planted roses, seeing them as a mockery to his own.

She preferred her grandmother's spin on the story.

According to her grandmother, the keeper was once a simple man who came from a high noble-blood family, whose beauty was so striking it took breaths away, highly gifted in the arts of persuasion that rivaled the serpent. He charmed admirers' hearts and outwitted rivals and obstacles, cheating his way of out traps and deaths innumerable times.

However, there was one thing the man could not cheat himself from, no matter how sly he was: love.

He had fallen in love with a girl, one of lowest status whose future lay either on the bottom or flat on her back. Such a girl shouldn't have affected him. Yet she beckoned him so easily. All it took was one glance into her eyes, seemingly frail with unshakable fire burning within for him to fall hard. The fairest rose of them all. He believed such a girl like her should be treated better than the peacocks paraded in his mother's courts, gifted with wonders that were more than jeweled and dazzled.

Something rare. Something from the heart.

He planted her roses.

Not just any roses, but extraordinary roses. Roses the color of bright crimson red, each petal strong as steel and smoother than the world's finest silk, the sweet perfume so intoxicating it was like experiencing heaven through inhalation.

He wanted the roses to last forever, a symbol to his beloved that his love would never die, so he did something crazy. He made a promise to the devil through a powerful blood oath that he would be his personal servant if he could make his wish come true.

Winter came and it went. The roses remained as beautiful and strong, unaffected by the forces of nature. And continued to be so through the spring, summer, autumn, and winter again in a continuous loop, immune to the strong winds and pouring rain, unfazed by the blazing sun and heavy snow.

Rejoiced, he decided that after a year of planting and waiting to make his move. He left a letter for his intended to meet him by the riverbank, where his red roses grew wild and free.

She appeared, leaping into his arms, accepting the proposal and roses with a great passionate kiss pouring with love and a bright smile that outshone the heavens.

Yet, later on that night, that bright smile would turn into a stunned expression forever marked onto the girl's face. A promise was a promise. It was foolish for one to believe they could gain their wish through a contract without giving something back in return.

And the devil was one to hold onto promises concerning him, intending they be seen through.

That night, the man had taken his first victim.

Centuries passed by, and people steered cleared of the riverbank in the West woods, cautious of the love-twisted man whose spirit supposedly haunted the woods.

People believed that he was sentenced to eternal misery, a punishment for his naïveté against a powerful man, luring victims in with his beauty and roses, then leading them down to hell. Others believed his once loving heart turned to black stone, and he vowed to crush every loving heart that dared displayed affection near his roses

Her grandmother had her own theory.

Just as love was the thing that changed him, it was the thing that kept him bound to earth. He believed that he would find his love again, his fairest rose, and vowed he would bring her back to the river, where a blooded-red, rose-bed awaited her.


	2. Chapter 2

**Day One**

_Damn you, Sokka._

The young woman thought angrily, narrowly navigating her way through sharp thrones that pricked at her skin and the pines that refused to let go of her hair.

Twice already, her bun got caught on the sleeve of the pines, getting tangled and looser until finally her hair was completely undone, falling down her shoudlers. She nearly twisted her ankle, missing the high-stooped branch in her path. And she was no closer to home than she was two hours ago.

She was sure it was two. Or maybe it was three. Or four? She didn't remember.

She let out a frustrated breath as she glanced around her surroundings, seeing nothing more than tall trees.

It amazed that in life, while most things change, some things stayed the same. Take her and Sokka for example. Her brother was almost twenty and she was sixteen yet the two still fought and irritated each other like they were children. Sokka believed that he was a superior being. Katara liked to knock his ego down a peg. Katara believed she was just as capable as he. Sokka set up challenges to prove her wrong.

Today was no different.

Their father, Hadoka, announced there would be a masquerade party for his friends and neighbors at their house in celebration of Halloween that was only a few days away. He decided she would be perfect candidate to plan the event.

Katara has always been fond of the holiday. The dressing up, the decorations, the sweet treats-it was a night of fun. This year she wasn't as fond of it as she used to be. Some blame could be pinned on the excessive planning and decorating with limited time and little help. The primary source behind her annoyance this year was the motive behind the party.

Finding her a husband.

She knew her father meant well. She knew he cared. The issue though, other than the fact subtly wasn't one of his traits, was that he didn't ask if this was what she wanted. He just told them (specially her) of the party, use any theme she wanted, and left it at that.

Despite her annoyance, she couldn't fault her father. She was sixteen years old, more than ready to be married. Most of her friends, her neighbors, daughters of his friends were already mothers while she was still an unclaimed maiden. Time was slipping away and no proposal had been brought forward. Once she reached twenty, it'd be hard to set up a good match since she would be considered a spinster to most suitors.

Her brother had walked into the living room, noticing the thoughtful frown on her face while she tied lace red and black streamers on the stairway. He decided that was the right time to be a smart-mouth.

"Wow, the place screams Halloween," He surveyed around the room, taking in the red and black theme she was going with. Cracked mirrors and portraits of Halloween legends plastered on the wall, with red pain resembling blood running down the interior in streaks, with black chandelier hanging above, slowly rotating, giving off flashes of light.

She accepted the compliment with a half-smile, her mood almost lighting up. She should had expected a jab to be tied in with the compliment.

"Hope for your costume, you're doing the opposite affect," She looked over her shoulder, shooting deadly daggers at her brother. He stood, unfazed, smiling innocently at her. "We want you to charm the guys, Katara. Not scare the pants off them."

"Ha. Ha. Ha." Katara replied, her voice flat.

"I'm just giving you some advice, baby sis. When I'm visit my future nieces and nephews, I don't to hear Aang tell them, after you made him piss in his pants with your scary witch costume, he proposed."

She wasn't quite sure what then triggered annihilate-brother mode. It could have been the uneasy image Sokka painted of her future with a boy a few years younger than her that she saw as a brother. A likable brother at that. It could have been because of the unmistakable envy she had for the her brother and the true freedom he had. There was a time limit of her appeal for suitors who easily get turned off by looks, age, or both. Sokka, on the other hand, had no such worry. He could be sixty by the time he finally decided to settle down and the list of candidates would be endless.

Or maybe, just simply, she lost it because there was only so much Sokka a person could handle before they snapped.

Whatever the reason, Katara found herself chasing her brother. She chased him around the house, climbing up the stairs, going down the stairs. The chase continuing outside, through the courtyard where their grandmother dismissed their antics with a shaking head and slight smile. Then extended into the woods behind their house, where they used to play when they were children, going further in.

Katara prided herself of being a fast runner. She was could easily outrun most of the males in her circle of her friends, including one who was a skinny thing with long legs. Sadly, this was one talent that was a family trait, one her brother exceeded in.

She moved like a panther. Sokka like an arrow hurling towards the target. As fast she ran, he increased her speed by ten, keeping a good distance and looking back every now and then to smirk at her, enjoying her huffing and puffing.

He smirked once more, turned left, and disappeared into the mass of bushes. She followed her led, and saw that she was completely alone.

_Damn_, she thought, trying to keep herself calm, despite the growing anxiety churning in her stomach.

_It's fine_, she told herself. _We didn't go that far. I'm sure I can make out._

She thought by now she'd be out and here she was, still lost.

She has been walking and retracing her steps, attempting to get herself out of the maze her brother stuck her into and getting little success.

There was a time she used to know these woods inside-out, every rock and flower. The trees they used to hide snacks and toys. The rocks Sokka buried his treasure under. The branches their father used for their old swing. Problem was she hadn't been in the woods in years, replacing playtime with work, forced to trade in dolls and fun for lessons and sewing.

Everything looked so different to her now, bigger almost. It was hard to remember which way led to the trail back to their house. It was hard to distinguish which oak tree out of the hundreds led to that path. Every turn she made led her to another path of more trees and bushes. Every step led her further away from home and deeper into the woods, close to unmarked territory forbidden for them.

Katara glanced up at the sky. Dusk cam fast, the darkness overshadowing the clear blue, presenting the half-moon that looked down at her.

Their dad would be home by now, worried over her disappearance and irritated with her, thinking she was being her usual aloof self.

"You're your mother's daughter alright," he'd often said, brushing back her hair with one hand, looking into her deep azure-blue eyes that were similar to his wife's. "Same spirit. Same free wildness."

He didn't always meant it as a compliment. More so as a warning. He believed it was her mother's fiery nature and freeness that contributed to her early demise. As a result, he was stern with his daughter who shared his wife's likeness, sometimes even harsh, believing strict discipline and criticism were the key elements in molding a young girl into a proper lady.

_If only he knew_, Katara thought.

_Snap._

Fear kicked her hard like a solid punch to the gut, nearly knocking the wind out of her. Her head whipped behind her.

Nothing.

Except a pounding heart ready to burst from her chest.

_Sokka_, she scowled. Who other than her brother found pleasure in scaring her?

"Very funny," she called out. "You can come out now."

She waited and listened. Any minute now, she'd hear his loud laughter ripping through the wind before he emerged from the trees, arms wrapped around his torso, nearly choking on his laughter.

Still nothing.

"Sokka?"

_Snap._

Anxiety changed into panic. Panic morphed into fear. Fear pricked across her skin like leeches, inserting deep into her veins.

She glanced around the area. No Sokka. No anything. Only her, the trees, and the dark sky.

"This isn't funny anymore."

She didn't hear a snap this time. She sensed something. Something….hot, like heat. Heat that was directly behind her.

_Did I dare?_

Swallowing a nervous lump, she slowly rotated her body at a one-eighty angle. Her heart jumped right into her throat.

Vivid golden eyes glowed from the darkness, shining like molten lava. Intensity gleamed and roared from his eyes, so powerful it chilled her to the bone yet at the time triggered a different sort of anxiety in her. One that baffled her, and terrified her even more.

This time she didn't bother to see if it was Sokka. Even he had his limits. She did what any person would do in her situation.

She ran like hell.

Heart pounding like an earthquake, slamming against her chest, fear raising the levels of adrenaline, she ran. A scream-loud, fearful-was lodged into her throat, on the tip of her tongue, ready to erupt. She bit her lip hard to keep it in, tasting the blood that leaked from the broken skin.

Screaming might have helped her in a different situation, but not this one where was she alone, too far away for anyone else to help her, with something dark that'd doubtlessly, not to mention quickly, silence that scream before it produced into another. She read too many novels proving this point, where a character tried screaming at the top of her lungs, only to play a hand in her own death.

Remembering the graphic description from one book's passage of an innocent girl who was raped in the most brutal, unhuman-like way before she was tortured to death because her screams made Katara run faster.

She wasn't sure where exactly she was going; she knew she was running blindly. She didn't care, though. She knew she needed to get away.

So focused on getting away, she failed to notice the low branch in her way, getting her foot caught in it and tumbling hard to the ground before laying in a wounded heap.

Pain running up and down her leg, she focused on breathing as she slowly got on her. Then quickly came back down as fire flared in her left knee.

She pushed away the material of her dress, shocked at the amount of blood oozing from a deep wound that slit right across her knee.

_No_, she thought.

_Snap._

Stay and try to mend her knee or huddle her way home. Those were her two opinions.

_Snap._

She took one step forward with her bad knee, and immediately brutal pain slammed against her leg, nearly bringing her down to her knees again. She bit her lip hard, doing her best to ignore the pain

_Snap._

She could sense he was behind her; she felt those glowing, inhuman eyes boring holes into the back of her head. She moved as quickly as she could, behind the obvious fact her attempts were in vain.

So lost in her fear and determination, huddling as fast as her injured leg would allow her, turning her head back more than once to see if someone was behind, feeling a presence behind her yet seeing nothing, she failed to notice what was in front of her.

She discovered her mistake too little, too late as she slammed against something hard, the strong force pushing her backwards, further adding pain to her knee. She tried to get up again, but the pain punished her, slicing right across her knee, extending down to her leg. She touched her injury, feeling the crimson red oozing from the wound.

His dark shadow appeared in front, paralyzing her heart with a stab of ice-cold fear of realization that brought tears to her eyes.

_I'm gonna die. Oh God, I'm going to die_, she thought. Tears stung her eyes, and she closed them quickly. She'd rather be in the darkness to see what terror awaited her, bracing her for violation and dismemberment.

Moments went by. The only thing she felt was the cool wind gently caressing her face, playing with strands of her hair.

Katara slowly opened her eyes, prepared to see a monster that belonged in fairy-tales, tall and dark with cruelty written in his smile.

She instead saw a boy.

_No_, she thought dumbfounded, fear changing to pure astonishment. He was not a boy.

Aang, dear as he was, was a boy, completely innocent in so many ways and childlike in his appearance. Especially his brown earnest eyes that gave away every thought of his. Jet, as much as he tried to pass off as a superior man, was a boy, too, growing into his developed looks yet lacking in the traits that made a boy a man.

Boy was almost an insult to the person in front of her, like comparing a lioness to a cat. He was all-man and nothing less. Tall, a few inches over Sokka with well-developed muscles that covered every inch of him from the head to toe. Skin that matched the color of the moon, smooth as fine porcelain that glowed from the silvery light. Dark hair that matched the shade of midnight, dancing along with the wind. Eyes the color of the sun looked down at her, narrowed almost curiously, as if she were a specimen that fascinated him.

And his face….Katara's heart that seconds ago was ready to burst from her chest became a dead weight, paralyzed not by fear but awe.

Face well-chiseled and detailed perfectly, almost as if the gods came together and decided to craft the perfect being, the type of dark beauty that existed only within the pages of books. He would almost be too beautiful if it wasn't for the fiery red mark imprinted onto his left eye, close to his cheek. Such a scar would be monstrous on a person, almost too painful to look at without wincing. On him, though, the scar added more of an edge to his already-mysterious persona, bringing out an undeniable uniqueness that, while it was hard to digest, it was twice as hard to look away from.

_Am I dreaming_, she wondered, feeling as if she was under a spell. Did she hit her head when she fell?

_No, that can't be it. I felt pain. In dreams, you can't feel pain._

So why did she feel so…unafraid, calm, detached?

The boy-man-_stranger_(yes, that suited him) stared her in silence, his piercing eyes intense and unwavering, looking deep within her as if he needed answers only she had.

_Who are you? What do you want?_ The questions were right on the tip of her tongue yet still she remained silence.

Without warning, he lowered himself down to her level, moving in a fluidity grace she could only dream of achieving.

_What_-

His eyes moved away from her eyes, finally permitting her to draw breathe she hadn't realized she was holding, down towards her neck. Traveling further and further down, past her torso, then her leg, settling to her bruised knee. A pale hand grabbed hold of her knee, pushing back the ruined material of her leggings, exposing more skin than she cared to. Burning her with his touch that went down to her bones.

His touch was what jolted her back into the present, with realization mixed with shock pounding against her head once she took note of what was happening. What he was doing. What she was allowing him to do.

"What are you doing-"

Her words died on her lips as he ribbed a strip of white fabric of his shirt, doing it so easily like the fabric was cheap instead of silk. He quickly got on his feet and walked over to the small tree behind the large oak tree. From the tallest branch, he reached deep inside and looked out three leaves that were unlike anything she had seen: teal, close-to-blue leaves with frost at their tips. He smeared the leaves against the fabric so hard she could see their color painting the fabric. Once he was satisfied, he dropped the ruined leaves onto the ground, then reached into his pocket and retrieved a petal.

A petal that was a light shade of pink, almost white, with a dark mauve shade running across it.

He didn't smear the petal onto the fabric like he did with the leaves. He laid it gently on the garment piece, running his hand against, practically blending it into the material.

Satisfied, he come back, not paying mind to the bafflement of her expression. He grabbed her leg again, unfazed by her tugging.

"What are you-" Her words were lost in the powerful hiss that ripped through her teeth as the fabric touched her skin, causing an explosion of brutally_ intense_ pain that brought tears to her eyes. The hisses continued, growing in length and volume, cheeks damp with tears, while the fabric brushed against her skin. Over and over again, adding fuel to the fire that burnt her skin, practically tearing it tissue to tissue.

Then, just when she was sure she was about to pass out, just when she was sure she was going to lose her leg, something changed.

The pain lessened to a throb. The throb lightened to a muscle ache. The ache disappeared completely, leaving behind a numb coolness.

Katara hasn't realized her eyes were closed until the woods flooded into her formerly-dark vision. She glanced down at her knee, stunned.

He had bound her knee with that ripped fabric. Those strange plants he smeared were the ingredients used to heal her.

She bent her leg slightly, bringing her knee up. No pain. No burning. Only slight discomfort that was easily manageable.

"Isn't the first rule of lady etiquettes is to always have an escort by your side at all times if said lady is courageous enough to go out at night? And in such an isolating area where anything can happen?"

The sound of his voice threw her off balance for a moment. She was already used to his silence.

Once her shock had settled, the words he said processed her in her mind and angered her. She didn't appreciate the tone he used, that familiar mocking tone that was too much like Sokka and Jet's. She didn't like the way he said "said lady" as if she wasn't worthy of the word. She especially didn't like the way he spoke as if she was a naïve, helpless little girl like her father and her brother and pretty much everyone else saw her as. "You say courageous as if it should be insulting."

"Simply depends on one's perspective."

She glared at him through narrowed eyes. "I'll have you know that the first rule of lady etiquettes is always be courtesy."

His lips lifted into a soft, half smirk sharp with a teasing bite. "Does that rule still apply when the lady herself is not acting lady-like?"

She bit her tongue to hold in the name she wanted to brand him with, fighting through her annoyance that was directed towards three people. At Sokka for getting and leaving her in this situation. At the stranger for drawing out her anger. At herself for not having better control over herself.

"It certainly applies to _both_ parties. The lady and the gentleman. A true gentleman that does not mock her."

His half-smirk broadened into a smile that was tainted with wickedness and soft as he looked at her, meeting her eyes again. It was a smile that, despite her frustration, sent a jolt of anxiety that nearly undid her. "A true gentleman helps a lady in. Did I not so by binding your knee.

She opened her mouth, ready to rebuttal, then quickly closed it, finding truth in his words.

He smiled that wicked smile, seeing how he outwitted her with that one.

_Pompous, arrogant ass._ She scowled at him. "All circumstantial-"

"Did I or did I not assist you as a gentleman should when a lady is in need?"

She glared. He smirked. A part of her wanted to smack that smirk clean off with a slap to his face. Another part of her wanted to make the smirk disappear in a different way.

One that involved lips against lips, breath exchanging breath.

A vivid image popped into her mind of her being nothing more than a pool in his arms as he assaulted her with his lips, kissing her in ways one dreamt about, caressing her, making her come to life.

Cheeks ablaze, she was unable to resist sneaking a peek at him. A chilling glint bleed through his eyes, so arousing it nearly resurrected the image. It sparked of taunting and slight knowing, as if he knew exactly what went through her mind.

"If you really were a gentleman, you'd offer more assistance to a lady in need."

Usually she hated playing with the damsel-in-distress card, but there times when it was necessary to pull out that card. This was one of those times, when she wanted to knock his ego down a peg.

He nodded once. Then swept her into his arms in one fluid movement, carrying her delicately like a young bride on her wedding night.

_This was not what I meant_, she thought, her cheeks warm.

He met her stunned expression with that infamous smirk. "Your leg may not be in throbbing anymore, but it'd foolish to test it. I'd hate for the fair lady to be back at where she started."

_Pompous ass_, she scowled. She tried not to notice how strong his arms. She tried harder not to notice how warm his chest felt or how soft his skin was. She tried very hard.

"You're a different type of lady."

She rolled her eyes, knowing very well where this conversation was going. By different, he meant too opinionated. Too proactive. Too wild for her own good. "I'm sure. I'm a unusual being."

"Well, I certainly never meant a girl who never backs down in debates like you."

She certainly didn't expect that.

She was sure no one had said anything like that before. She was sure no one had. Not like a compliment.

"Thank you." she murmured. A smile, the first one of the night, one that was soft, graced her lips.

"Your welcome."

_Okay_, she decided as she made herself more comfortable, leaning against his chest. She did little to resist the pull of his warmth. _Maybe not a complete ass_.

She must have fallen asleep in his arms, lured by the warmth of his skin and the rhythm of his steps because when she opened them, she recognized where they were. Though they were still in the woods, they were no longer in the heart. They were close to the end, where her house was close by.

She looked up at him, unsurprised to see him looking down at her, but surprised by the soft smile by the corner of his lips. Unlike his previous smiles, there was no trace of taunting embedded in his lips. No mocking. No wickedness. Just a simple smile that was bright for warmth, warmth that was for her. Warmth that grew the longer he stared at her.

"Did I finally prove that I'm a true gentleman?"

It took a few moments for her to speak. "Yes," she managed to breath out.

He set her gently on her feet, but he didn't release her from his arms, keeping them bound around her waist, pulling her against him.

He stole her breath before she could let it out in a kiss that as passionate as it was gentle. She gasped, shocked by the sensations that set off by the touch of their joint lips, and he used that to his full advantage, slipping inside her tongue and stroking the top of her mouth, turning everything upside down in the most delicious way.

This time she didn't put a fight. She gave in, kissing him in a manner that was urgent, trying to match the rapid pace of his movements while getting lightheaded in the process, unable to resist the taste of the heaven that fell into her grasp.

Everything slipped away. Thoughts, worries, time. Everything and anything that didn't have to do with this moment. Everything and anything that didn't have to do with this sensual feeling spreading throughout every cell in her body.

As gentle as the kiss was, everything changed once he slammed her into the tree behind her. Gentlness faded away like a dream as urgency took over. He kissed her so hard, it was bruising, stealing every wasted breath, every wasted word, every wasted thought. He kissed her so desperately, it should have been frightening. Yet, he wasn't being rough with her. He wasn't being an animal. He was lost in the waves of pleasure and passion they set off together that demanded to be felt.

She matched his desperation with her urgency, one built from yearning, not giving a damn how she sounded. He pulled back every now and then to kiss other parts of her: her neck, her shoulders, all while caressing her like she was fine porcelain before coming back to her lips. Each time he did this, she moaned breathlessly, a prisoner to the pleasure, drowning deeper and deeper into the abysses.

Perhaps, she was already in the deep. She certainly felt it.

Especially as one hand slowly brushed against her breast, against a sensitive nipple that hardened from the heat his touch brought.

_More_, her subconscious commanded. _More!_

"Katara!"

Wait a minute-it couldn't be-Sokka.

He gently pulled away from her, dropping his arms from her sides. She stared back at him, her heavy breathing filling the silence, body flustered, head dazed from the spell he put her under.

"_Katara!_"

She turned her head back, hearing his footsteps coming fast. She turned back to him, to warn him of his brother, to leave before her brother stumbled upon this discovery.

He beat to her to the punch, silencing her with another kiss, one just as soft as the previous one with an undeniable flare of lust that weakened her knees. She moaned, kissing him back.

He released her lips, then kissed her nose, and forehead. "Until we meet again."

"Karata"

The stranger was gone. Sokka was back, running towards her looking like he wanted to hug and kill her both at the same time.

"Where the hell were you?" he demanded. "I go back to the house, thinking you just gave up and went back to decorating. Yet, when I get there, I get a whack on the head from Gran-Gran who says you haven't been seen all day. Then Dad comes back, finds out what happened, and almost kills me on the spot for leaving you. He sends out search parties to find you, promising to kill me later. All the while I'm worrying about my baby sister who is all alone in the woods, in the dark. No weapon, no man to protect her. And how it's gonna be my fault if something happened-hey! Are you even listening to me?"

As soon as he started babbling, she tuned him out. Then looked over at the spot where the stranger stood, her eyes widened.

In his place was a single red rose.

**AN: I'm both happy and pissed. Happy you guys liked the story. Happy you subscribed and reviewed and favorited. Pissed that I didn't meet my goal for the story. I thought I get this wrapped up by Halloween but thanks to college and exams and homework, time flew. All annoyance aside, happy Halloween ;)**


	3. Chapter 3

**Day Two **

_Roses. _

_She could smell nothing but roses. _

_Fresh, the way nature smelt after a rejuvenating rainstorm. Incredibly sweet, sweeter than the best perfume money could buy, And they were everywhere. _

_There wasn't a single time she turned to that didn't have the strong aroma of the roses. Hardly a place where crimson flowers and petals weren't covering her or falling from above. _

_She laid in a field of roses, fitted into a petal mattress softer than any bed she ever felt in. She couldn't remember a time she felt so snug, so warm. So content. _

_Her calm serenity was broken by a touch. A simple touch that was gentle as a breeze yet powerful as lightening, electrifying her with its slow caress that sent chills running up and down her spine. _

_His hand skimmed down her arm, past her torso, deliberately tracing the curves of her naval, sending molten shots of pleasure down the pit of her stomach. _

_A small moan escaped her lips, but she didn't open her eyes. Not yet. _

_Both hands slide down to her legs, gently pulling them apart. Her heart beat rapidly like a drum, ready to burst from her chest. Her body trembled as the pleasure risen to impossible heights, creating a strange pressure that build in her womanhood. _

_Breathing heavy, she opened her eyes. _

_Golden orbs that burnt like the sun looked down at her. _

_He kissed her gently on the lips, once, twice, three times-making common sense and self-control fade away with each sweet kiss as delicious as the roses. _

"_My beautiful rose," he whispered against her lips. _

_His finger slipped inside her._

Feeling the sides of her lungs being mashed together by the tight corset her grandmother was tying broke her free of her dream

"There," her grandmother smiled, trying the last of her stings. "Done."

Katara tried to put on a brave smile, but it came out as a sour grimace as she recalled what she had been doing.

She was thinking about him again.

The stranger who found her in the woods. Who tended her wounds. Teased her. Kissed her.

Remembering the smooth curve of his lips, the silkiness of his tongue, the explosive passion that nearly consumed her colored her cheeks in flaming red.

After Sokka had found her, sprouting nonsense of responsibility, a topic she found laughable coming from him, she headed straight to her room. Navigating her way through her father's usual scolding, her grandmother's questions, her brother's suspicious looks that paid close attention to her distressed-state.

Alone in her room, she slipped into her nightgown, mindful of her injury, and sat on her bed, staring down at the gift that was left behind.

It was truly a beautiful flower, more than any flower she had seen before in her life. She couldn't a time she stumbled onto a flower that was so rich in color, so red. She brought it close to her face and inhaled the flower, almost falling back from the enchanting aroma too sweet for words.

Just as she couldn't recall seeing a flower so beautiful, she couldn't remember smelling one as sweet. So sweet, it was almost like wine. A very, rich expensive wine bound to make people drunk with one inhale.

The next day, she ventured into the village, hoping to get a glimpse of him, careful to appear normal around her brother who insisted that he should come and stayed close by her side like a watchdog. She searched the square, the bakery, the bookshop. She had seen plenty of boys and men, some even with pale skin and dark hair. But none with gold eyes, none with the scar, none with his beauty.

Perhaps he was a new to the village. After all she didn't remember seeing him before, and she knew a face like that was impossible to forget.

A name would have made her search easier, but she didn't know it. She cursed herself immensely for not asking him of his name.

By the end of the day, her search turned up nothing. She searched any possible place she could think of in the village square, but she couldn't find him.

Maybe the reason she couldn't find was because he wasn't real. Perhaps the stranger was nothing more than a figment of her imagination.

It made sense. She had taken a nasty fall. She was in a great deal of pain. He appeared from nowhere like a ghost, then disappear the same way.

The thought hit her like a crushing blow to the stomach, one she had to toll through for the sake of her dignity. She was never one to wallow in self-pity.

She pushed all thoughts of that night and the stranger back into the back of her mind, continuing on with days she way she usually did: chores, lessons, decorations for the masquerade. No more wandering off, much to the relief of her father. No more venturing out to the woods. No more him.

Those were her days. Her nights were different. Her mind, usually steady and focused, betrayed her during the night. As soon as she closed her eyes, the stranger was freed from the prison she locked him into and came out to toy with her, haunting her dreams like a demon. In some of her dreams, she was back in the woods, either on the ground or against a tree, frozen in place as he slowly approached her, the vicious gleam in his eyes chilling her to the bone. In others, like the one she had recent, she was in a field completely invaded in roses. Roses that covered every inch of the land until there was nothing but red, with scarlet petals falling from the sky like rain. He approached her the same way like he did in the woods, but this time she didn't fear him. She waited for him, lying still but willing as if she were a virginal sacrifice, a prey to his predator.

He'd kissed her. Touch her. Caress her. Undo her with his touches that scorched her skin, drugging her with his kisses until she was drunk with passion, building up a sweltering pressure within her that was too unbearable, too good that she'd awaken from the dreams, damp in sweat, heart pounding loud, the air fumigated with the smell of roses.

Last night's dream was no expectation. She was in the field of roses. He came to her. He tortured her with his kisses and touches, adding fuel to the fire burning between her legs. A fire so intense she found her legs were tightly clenched when she woke up, as if they were holding something in.

"Come, my dear. Look in the mirror," her grandmother told her. "See how beautiful you are."

Obediently, she looked up from her feet to the mirror. She barely contained her surprised gasp, unable to recognize the girl staring back at her.

The girl resembled little of a girl and more of a woman. A fully-grown, mature woman.

It was her grandmother who decided the dress should be red. A choice that brought grimaces to her father and Sokka's faces, who believed lighter colors were better suited for her. A choice that surprised the young woman coming from her soft-spoken grandmother.

The dress was a rich scarlet red, the silk material smooth as water against her skin, hugging her body, bringing out every curve her body had to offer. Her arms were practically bare with the expectation of thin straps pushed off down her shoulders and a halter neck holding the dress together.

The dress was already lethal enough, but her grandmother made it deadly, cutting a clean slit by the left side that teased by flashing glimpses of her bare leg.

Her grandmother took pride in her silence, beaming proudly. "This masquerade is practically your debut into world, Katara. Why not look the best you can."

"Father will almost kill you for making this."

She shrugged, unfazed. "He needs to realize that you are a woman now, not a girl. I figured the best way for him to realize that was to make him see it. And red is a beautiful color. It's very becoming on you."

Katara took little comfort in her grandmother's words, finding strange irony in them. Yes, she looked all-grown up and this masquerade was all for her. But it really wasn't all for her. It was all for her future, for her husband. This dress would draw the attention of every available and unavailable men in sight, bringing more dread and disappointment to her.

"I know you're nervous, child, but there is no reason to be."

She fixed her hair in a style that was half up, half down, pinning red clips into her head. A few swipes of mascara, blush, and a touch of lipstick, she saw ready to go.

Her grandmother handed her the mask, a simple yet elegant red mask that went perfectly well with her dress. Once she fastened the mask on, she was led into the party. The moment she stepped in, the place went silent, eyes fixed onto the lady in red.

Oh dear. Katara swallowed a nervous lump, forcing her body to remain calm despite the fact every nerve was on high from all the looks directed at her. She was grateful for her mask, otherwise she'd have a half a mind to run.

A long minute that treaded slowly like a hour passed before someone finally decided to do more than just stare. A young man, dressed in gold and orange, broke away from the crowd and walked towards her.

Aang.

"Katara?" he asked.

She nodded once, and he smiled in amazement.

"Wow. You-you look amazing."

"Thank you." she smiled in gratitude.

Behind her, she could feel her father's eyes on her, paying close attention.

Stepping into the role of a meek daughter, she smiled at the young boy, curtsying before him and accepting his eager hand.

The party nearly went on forever. Those that saw through her mask complimented her for the elegant masquerade feel she gave the drawing room and dining hall and her dress that was quite a crowd-pleaser, making her father beam with pride. She played her role well, staying close by her father or brother's side, mingling with the guests, accepting every invitation for a dance including past partners.

"You look like you're having a grand time, Sugar Queen."

Hearing that familiar, sarcastic vice brought a genuine smile to her face. Turning around, she came face-to-face with a young girl who was fast on her way on becoming a great beauty. Jet-black hair bound into a tight bun with three glistening pins, dressed in a beautiful gown designed in different shades of green and white, and her gray eyes that, while unfocused, held a mischievous nature in them.

"Toph," Formalities were pushed aside as she warmly embraced her friend. "How are you?"

"Bored," she answered. "I love the fact that even though it's Halloween, people are acting as if it's a royal homecoming. Dressed so formally with a flimsy mask to go with their clothes." She held up her own mask, a cream-white mask that resembled a dove. Not doubt it was something her mother picked out for her. Toph's choice of clothing was far from feminine.

"It's not so bad, Toph," Katara said. As her friend turned her sightless yet clear eyes over to her, her smile fell. She couldn't lie to Toph, much less to herself.

The party, though successful, was boring. Nothing like the Halloween the two had last year, dressed in most outrageous costumes and ran through the village, hands carrying heavy sack of treats, causing quite a ruckus with their shrieking and laughter.

Last year, they were carefree girls. Now they were young women, young women meant to be poised and obedient and graceful.

Depression weighted down heavily on her shoulders.

"As boring as this night has been, there have been a few jests," Toph swirled the contents of her glass lazily, smiling. "Like hearing Twinkle-toes stomping on your feet like grapes."

_Six dances straight_. Katara winced, feeling a deep throbbing pain jump from toe to toe.

"Times like this, I wish I could see. It was funny hearing it. Seeing it would have too sweet." Her friend giggled, taking a sip of her wine.

"Too much sweetness," Katara growled softly through clenched teeth, irritated with her friend's pleasure brought on by her pain. "can lead to a tootache."

Toph waved the threat with a dismissive hand. "God bless liquor then for easing pain."

"Only temporary."

She waved her hand again, continuing on. "As funny as that was, nothing could be the fact Jet's eyes were glued right to your two mounds of tempting flesh."

Her hand flew to her chest, her cheeks flamed in mortification. The neckline of her dress wasn't low enough to be considered indecent, but it was low enough to catch the attention of every partner she danced with.

"How do you know that?"

"I was standing right to the keen-eyed-for-gossip Ty-Lee who let me know in vivid detail how Jet's head was so chest to your face, it was as if he wanted a bite."

Blushing red, embarrassment and irritation swirling inside her, Katara scowled at her laughing "That is not funny, Toph. It's mortifying."

"One woman's mortification is another woman's entertainment. Why do you think lonely wives love gossip so much?"

She had a point there. "Even so-"

A hush came over the room, starting with the dancers, then the musicians, moving from corner to corner until there was nothing but silence.

"What's going on?" Toph asked. "Who's that?"

"I-" Her next words were silenced as he walked into the room.

The newcomer walked into the room like royalty, paying no mind to the looks directed to him while he strolled over to the center of the room, standing tall and proud for all to see.

Unlike most of the men presented, he didn't come in a suit. He came in black. From the neck down to the soles of his feet, he was covered in nothing but pure black that looked smooth to touch and clung to his body like second skin, enhancing the impressive features of his body. Strapped onto his shoulder were two, sharp duel swords that gleamed like stars. Concealing his identity was a blue and white mask that resembled a mad demon with fangs sprouting from his wide-grinned mouth.

Turning his head slightly, the Blue demon glanced around the room. From the musicians who flinched from his stare, Ty Lee who stared at him in awe, to Jet and his posses who didn't look as brave as they had moments ago.

"Whoever he is," Toph whispered. "I like him. Anyone who makes boring parties interesting are friends in my opinion."

If Katara wasn't so focused on the stranger, she would ask Toph if she were mad. This man couldn't be a friend or a neighbor. None had the ability to have the room by its knees so easily. For all they knew, he could be a thief.

_Or a murderer. _She looked over at the sharp swords she carried on his person. Her blood went cold.

"Who is he?"

"I don't know."

He looked over at their direction. His head titled slightly when he looked over at Toph. Katara wasn't surprise. Though her manner wasn't always pleasant, Toph possessed the type of beauty that made people spare her more than a glance.

His eyes then moved over from Toph over to her, where they stayed.

The way he stared at her made her heart pound rapidly against her chest. He stared at her in a way that made goose-bumps dot her skin and heat to rise in her face. He stared at her as if she were the most valuable thing in the world, the most precious, caressing her slowly with his steady gaze that made breathing more difficult with each passing second.

His gaze was so powerful that Toph could feel it, her easy manner changing as she trembled slightly. "Katara?"

The stranger took slow steps toward her. Each step made her heart beat harder, each breath a struggle.

Taking one last step, he held out his hand towards her.

_I shouldn't_, she thought. She couldn't. Not with a stranger who could very well be dangerous. Not with everyone watching them so intently. Not with her father watching.

Before she could breathe, she placed her small hand in his, amazed by the warmth. She allowed him to pull her away from Toph and followed him to the center of the room.

He fixed them into the correction position, placing her hand on his shoulder, his hand around her waist. All while she stood like a statue, frozen by the burn of his hand that slipped through the material of his gloves underneath her skin.

A flash of bright, molten gold flashed through the eyes of his mask.

_It couldn't be. _

As if they were commanded by a dark force, the musicians were awakened from their shock and gathered their instruments. The dark-haired violinist started them off, rifting through a note with a sharp edge that pierced through the soul, before falling into a melody that was incredibly haunting. The others musicians followed her lead.

Bowing his head slightly to her, he started to lead. He didn't dance like Aang who was clumsy with his two left feet. He didn't dance like Jet who held her too tight and danced too stiff. He was graceful, possessing a breathtaking fluidity and passion that was evident in every step he took, every turn he made. His style of dancing was unfamiliar, a form that seemed almost old.

It took her time to be accustomed to his style. Once she did, she found that she enjoyed her. They moved well together, every step precise, every turn and twirl perfect, going in perfect sync. Soon they were whirling around the room, turning everything and everyone into a colorful blur that spun around them while they danced. Pleasure burst within her as she lost herself to the music and his touch.

She kept her eyes closed as he brought her back to him after he twirled her away, dipping her low and running a warm hand against her cheek, before he lifted her high over his head. She threw her head back and stretched out her arms, unable to recall a time she felt freer than she did at that moment.

She didn't want it to end.

Her body surprised her once more. The stranger slowly brought her down, but she stopped him halfway through. Her bare leg slipped through the slit, wrapping itself against his torso.

He stilled. Panic rose in her. For a moment she wondered if she grew too bold.

Until she felt a gentle pressure squeezing her hand. Hesitantly she squeezed back.

His hand caressed her hand, leaving a burning trail as it traveled down her arm to the curve of her back.

He spun them around, his speed syncing with the rhythm of the music that went from soft and slow to the dramatic and fast. She held onto him for dear life.

Her skin was set on fire as he dipped her low and traced the length of her torso with his face, his warm breath brushing against her breasts, hardening her sensitivity. She gripped onto him, and bit her lip hard, trying to contain a moan that threatened to escape.

When she brought him back up, she unwound her leg, feeling almost naked without his warmth. He set her gently, but he didn't release her. Not yet.

She was glad that he had his arms around her; otherwise she'd be nothing but more than a puddle.

His lips brushed against her hairline, blowing hot air into her ear.

"_Soon._" An all-too familiar voice whispered in her ear.

She opened her eyes. He was gone. The people swarmed her, applauding.

"That was amazing."

"Quite a show you two put on."

"Do you know the man?"

Feeling too hot for comfort, she made her way out back to the courtyard, where she could be alone with her thoughts, away from prying eyes.

Confusion, shock, desire, and traces of hollowness that missed his touch hit her at once.

_It couldn't have been him,_ she thought. It couldn't be.

But there were things she couldn't easily dismiss. Like the way he looked at her. The way he touched her. His voice.

She ripped her mask off, feeling suffocated. She took in hefty gulps of air as she leaned against the wall, not giving a damn how unladylike she sounded, needing the coolness to wear off the heat burning her body.

"That was quite a performance."

Her head whipped over to the direction. Hope died down to disappointment as he stepped forward.

It wasn't the stranger. Only Jet.

He removed his mask and gave her his best attempt at a charming smile, which featured too many teeth for her liking.

The look in his eyes and the bite of his smirk set off uneasy tension in her stomach, a feeling that surprised her and one she tried to push away. Jet was far from well-mannered, often acted like a brute, but she had known him since they were children. There was no reason for her to feel uneasy around him.

"I was just dancing." she clarified.

A vicious glint darkened the look in his eye as he took slow steps toward her. Katara didn't realize she was backed against the wall until she felt the hard material digging into her back. Jet placed his hand next to her head, keeping her trapped. "I loved to see what the actual dance is."

She tried slipping past him, but he pushed her back and moved in closer.

"Let me go." she demanded.

"Come on, Katara," He used his free hand to lift her chin up. She pulled back, trying to restrain herself from biting him. "If you can run wild with a stranger, surely you extend the same courtesy to an old friend."

_The nerve_. She scowled at him. She wished she hadn't the wasted the opportunity she had to hurt him. "Let go of me!"

She tried pushing him off. Her effect proved feeble, barely making him even stumble.

"You want to get a husband," Jet smirked. "You show the show the benefits you have to offer."

Quickly catching onto the meaning of his words, she shoved him back with all her might, pleased to him almost lose his footing. "Go to hell, you disgusting dig!"

"Right after you give me a good dance like you did with that freak, you cock-teasing harlot-"

Silver flashed through the air, going right through Jet, the sharp tip of the blade sticking out from his neck, sprinkling her with drips of his blood.

She could only watch in terror as Jet collapsed onto the ground. Blood was everywhere. Gushing from his neck, leaking from his mouth, pooling around his face. Wet, sickening sounds that sounded inhuman escaped from his lips.

She wanted to move, to scream, to do anything but be a bystander, but her body wasn't following her brain. It stayed stuck to the floor, watching helpless as Jet bleed out.

He coughed one last weak, wet cough, and the last of blood dripped down his neck.

It was only then that she could finally scream.

"_Help!_ Somebody, anybody! Someone please help!"

She kneeled down before Jet, but her hands hovered over him unsure what to do. She was educated in the ways of medicine, but none of her lessons were about handling a bloodless body.

She heard a noise and looked up, hoping it was help.

Blue appeared from the darkness of the shadows.

She was frozen stiff, as a mouse looking into the eyes of a lion.

"_Soon_," he whispered before disappearing into the night.

**AN: Had a lot more ideas on what should happen next, but it would make the chapter too long if I tried to fit it in. So I spilt them up. I can promise the next one will definitely be hot. **


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